Meant to Be
by hopelesslyhalfhearted
Summary: Just because it wasn't what you wanted, doesn't mean it wasn't meant to be.
1. Chapter 1

Beads of water stuck to her cheeks, her eyes were glossy, shiny. It couldn't be true. She didn't want it to be true. It couldn't be. She had to graduate high school and go to college and then she'd get a job and an apartment of her own and travel the world and party and settle down and move in together and get married and...and then have a baby. The baby part had to come last. That was how it was meant to be. It couldn't come first. It had to come last. Not first...never first. No. They had to be wrong. All 20 of them had to be wrong. There was no way she could be...she couldn't even think it.

She did the only thing she could think of and picked up the phone.

* * *

"Have you taken a test?" It was the first thing out of her mouth as she flung open the door of her best friend's bedroom. The shaking blonde nodded and pointed towards a pile of white sticks next to the bed. The brunette threw her bag on the bed and knelt, searching through them. "They're all positive," She muttered to herself disbelievingly. This wasn't meant to happen. They were meant to have their children together, at the same time. One would have a boy and the other a girl and they'd watch them grow up and then they'd get them to date and then they'd sit together crying with joy at the wedding. That was how she planned it. They were meant to be like _that_. "Are you keeping it?"

"I haven't even thought about what to do..." She was beside her in an instant, hugging her close to her body.

God, how were they going to do this?

He was the first guy to know. It was ironic really, a couple of years ago he would have been the last person to go to; in fact he would have probably been to the one who had knocked the girl up. But not anymore. Now he was a stable boyfriend, he was reliable, he was...decent. Not that the other guy wasn't all of those qualities, but he was dumb enough to not use a condom, big mistake there buddy. He watched as she paced up and down the room, pulling at her long wavy hair that he so often loved to run his fingers through. She did look beautiful, especially when she was worried.

"It will all work out," He reassured the small brunette.

* * *

"What do I do?" He had never seen her so vulnerable, so desperate. He was usually that one in the family, the one that needed help, but now it was reversed. He didn't like it. It wasn't meant to be like this. He wasn't meant to be an Uncle till he was at least 20. She wasn't meant to be a Mom. She was meant to be happy, vibrant, carefree. She was meant to just enjoy being in love. She was meant to finally be ok.

She wasn't meant to be asking him that question.

"You shouldn't be asking me that," He's got to be mature. He's going to be mature and he's going to help. He'll act like the elder sibling, even if it's just for this conversation. "You should tell him and you should ask him."

"But he..."

"He deserves to know and I think...I think he'll help you, more than I can, more than anyone can,"

* * *

He hoped he was right.

She rubbed her hands together, her fingers intertwining. What was she meant to say? How do you even begin to talk about it? She noticed the sofa was cold, really cold. She pulled at her dress, trying to cover her bare legs. The door opened, her immediate reaction was to stand up.

"Hey...what are you doing here?" He raised his eyebrows and blinked a bit. She loved it when he did that, when he was processing things or confused.

"You're Dad let me in on his way out,"

"Oh, right," He smiled and walked over to her, attempting to give her a kiss, but she pulled away. He did the face again. The adorable confused face. She had to look away. "Is everything alright?"

"I don't..."

"You can tell me,"

"I don't think you want to know,"

"Tell me," He urged, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and rubbing his thumb against her cheek. He could tell she had been crying. Her eyes were still puffy and he could feel the moisture where tears had run down.

"I think I'm...I know..." She looked down at the floor. "I'm pregnant," He stood still, for the first time he was stuck for words. He was silent. No rambling. Nothing.

"Do you...erm...are you hungry?"

"You're thinking about food right now?"

"It was the first thing I was going to ask you before you...I didn't know what else to say so..." He stopped. "Are you...do you want to keep it?"

"I don't know." She looked up at him, letting her eyes meet his. She looked so scared, he hated it. He hated it. It wasn't meant to be like this. He was meant to propose to her in Central Park and they were meant to plan it and have their own house, with a nursery and toys and they were meant to have the biggest smiles on their faces. They weren't meant to be scared. "Do you?"

"I...erm..." He pinched his temples, another habit, before sitting on the sofa. He leant forward, hands held together, his elbows on his knees and his chin resting on his thumbs. "I..."

"I...think I want to keep it...you don't have to..."

"I...if you want to have it, I'm not going to leave you..." He grabbed hold of her hand and looked her straight in the eyes. "I love you,"

"But you've got college and...and our parents,"

"It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks, just what you want,"

"What do you want?"

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you," He's sure of that now. He knows that's how it's meant to be. Whatever else happens he is meant to spend forever by her side. "If that means I have to make sacrifices now...with college...and...stuff...I will do,"

"I don't think I can have an abortion..."

"And I don't think I could be a dad then just give it away to someone else, so adoption's..."

"A no?"

"Defiantly,"

"I can't do this,"

"_We _will be ok," He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her body into his, and placed a soft kiss on her hair.

* * *

"Noah!" The young blonde had a lot more experience than her looks and age gave her credit for. Her son was 10 now and just as talkative as his father, also, like his father, he had no problem with spending long periods of time alone in his room, reading or drawing. That was where he was now, where he had been for the past hour. "We're already late," 5 minutes later a small blonde boy trudged down the stairs, his long hair hung over his eyes.

"Oh, I brushed my hair this morning, I forgot today was national no comb day, sorry," He teased as he came into the hall, pulling up his tie.

"You're not funny Dad,"

"You know I am," He laughed, handing his son a jacket. "It's a bit cold out,"

"I don't need it, we're going in the car," Noah hated jackets and coats. Her mother had told her it was a phase (something all children do apparently), Dan's father had said his son had been just the same, but with pants; something that was still brought up as much as possible to humiliate the young dad.

"Put it on," The boy's mother ordered, giving him a stern look before pulling on her own coat. Her husband wrapped a scarf around his neck and then stopped to do the same for his son.

"I can do it by myself,"

"Sorry, I forget that you're a big boy now," He used his playful, teasing tone again.

"Mom, tell him to stop!" He flashed his big blue eyes at his mother, pleading with her as his Dad picked up the baby carrier that sat on the floor by the door. He gently pulled away some of the blankets, checking she was still safely sleeping.

"Stop it both of you," She held back the urge to laugh at the two of them, before ushering them out the door and locking it behind them. She held the younger male's hand as she waited for her husband to fetch the car.

"I hate car journeys," The boy moaned.

"Me too," She agreed. "But you like seeing everyone else, don't you?"

"Yeah,"

"Well, you've just got to sit through a bit of a drive if you want to see them,"

"Couldn't we fly?" She laughed, but stopped when she saw his face. He was being deadly serious and he wore the most adorable look of anger in response to his mother's reaction.

"You can't fly a one hour car journey, sweetie," She told him, affectionately tussling his hair, causing him to swat her away, patting down strands of wayward gold.

"All aboard," He'd pulled the car up and waited for the rest of his small family to get in to the black Mercedes.

"You're lucky, you get to sleep," He looked towards the seat in which his little sister was laid, tiny breathing noises made their way out of the bundle.

"You can too," She suggested as her husband pulled out.

"No I can't. It's too noisy,"

"Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed," She teased, looking at her husband, who smiled quickly, before turning his gaze back on the road. She watched her son fold his arms and stare out the window, indicating he was in a strop. She knew it would best to not speak to him when he was like this. Instead she turned the radio on, although keeping it at a low volume, careful not to wake her sleeping daughter, and sung along quietly, occasionally looking over to her husband and laughing as he attempted to tap his finger to the beat on the steering wheel. He certainly hadn't inherited his father's musical ability.

"Are you laughing at me, Mrs Humphrey?"

"I might be," She giggled, her voice was hoarse, she was beginning to lose it after all the sleepless nights with the new baby and running around after her elder child.

"How rude," She laughed at him again before turning to check on the kids. They were both asleep now; she stared at them for a while, soaking in the adorable looks on their faces. "We've done well," It was like he was reading her mind.

"Yeah," She agreed, placing her hand in between the two seats, allowing him to place his over it. "He looks really tired,"

"Because he was up until at least 1,"

"1 am?" Her eyes widened.

"I caught him with his torch under the covers,"

"Did you stop him this time?"

"No..."

"Dan, come on, he's 10, you have to discipline him,"

"He was reading William Faulkner..." He'd never been able to stop his son reading a book, especially if it was one of his favourite authors, even if it was at ridiculous hours in the morning.

"He's reading William Faulkner at 10?"

"What can I say? He's clever like his daddy,"

"Pretty dumb then,"

"Thank you," He laughed.

"He never brings friends home," It had been on her mind for a while, eating away at her. What if her son was friendless?

"I wouldn't worry about that," He reassured her, squeezing her hand. "I wouldn't bring friends home if I had us as parents, we're pretty embarrassing,"

"He's not meant to find us embarrassing until he's a teenager,"

"I hate to break it to you, but he's 10 and everything about him is more mature than a usual child..."

"I guess you're right,"

"You _know_ I'm right," He grinned and then focused on the road again, turning into a drive and parking up next to a large Range Rover. He left his wife the more difficult task of getting the baby out of the car without waking her, whilst he went around to his son's side, gently shaking his shoulders to wake him. He rubbed his eyes and yawned.

"Wasn't too noisy after all, huh?" This earned a glare from his son; the phrase if looks could kill came to mind. "Come on then grouchy, they're waiting for us," He let his son clamber out, before closing the door and locking the car.

"Dad?" They were through the front door, their shoes making loud noises on the newly polished oak flooring.

"Yeah?" He hung their coats up then made his way to the living room, but was held back at the door, his son tugging on his jumper. "What's up?"

"I don't want to sleep in the closet," He looked down at him, brow furrowed, trying to work out what he meant.

"You're going have to explain kid, I don't get you,"

"Please don't make me sleep in the closet,"

"Why would we do that?"

"Because you're going to give Grace my room,"

"Wait, who said we were giving Grace your room?"

"Scott said that when she can talk you'll forget about me and that you'll just put me in a closet all day and make me sleep in a crib and then when you hate me you'll send me away,"

"Of course we won't," He crouched down so they were at the same eye level. "Noah Rufus Humphrey, you will never have to live anywhere but in our house in your room, unless you want to change, ok?"

"Scott said that you'd say that, but then you'd change your mind and you'll..."

"Scott doesn't know what he's talking about," Dan assured him. "You're keeping your room... it would be impossible to redecorate with all the photos and posters you have on the walls," His son smiled slightly. "Is this why you've been in a mood the past few days?" He shrugged. "I know we've been really busy with Grace, but if you ever want to...check out a new book together, like we used to, tell me, ok?"

"I'm a bit too old for bedtime stories,"

"Don't be silly, you're never too old for bedtime stories," He stood up. "We good?" Noah nodded. "Good, because I can hear Granddad and I think he's about to start playing," He watched as his son's eyes lit up and laughed as he ran into the room. He looked into the kitchen, finding most of the adults sat around having drinks, although he noticed his wife was drinking orange juice...it had become a habit apparently. His mother-in-law cooed over her granddaughter, tickling her and playing peek-a-boo. He turned back around and joined his dad in the living room.

They were all there; his son, the 7 year old Bass girl and her younger brother, sat alongside them were his nephews-the Archibald twins. They sat around on the sofas and chairs; all dressed in their best clothes, singing along with the man who sat playing guitar. Dan suddenly felt himself well up with pride, for his father, who seemed to finally be completely happy and as he watched his son play gently with his younger friends, making sure he didn't hurt them, he felt proud of him too.

And that was when he realised it.

Maybe it wasn't how they had thought or planned or wanted.

But it was certainly how it was meant to be.


	2. VERSION 2

**Ok, one shot mark 2. Same thing, but with some character names added, for anyone who didn't understand. Sorry if it was a bit hard going. Aaaaanyways. The letters before each section are an indication as to who each section begins to focus on. I'm sure you can work out which name a letter stands for. Have fun. :)**

_S_

Beads of water stuck to her cheeks, her eyes were glossy, shiny. It couldn't be true. She didn't want it to be true. It couldn't be. She had to graduate high school and go to college and then she'd get a job and an apartment of her own and travel the world and party and settle down and move in together and get married and...and then have a baby. The baby part had to come last. That was how it was meant to be. It couldn't come first. It had to come last. Not first...never first. No. They had to be wrong. All 20 of them had to be wrong. There was no way she could be...she couldn't even think it.

She did the only thing she could think of and picked up the phone.

* * *

_B_

"Have you taken a test?" It was the first thing out of Blair's mouth as she flung open the door of her best friend's bedroom. The shaking blonde nodded and pointed towards a pile of white sticks next to the bed. The brunette threw her bag on the bed and knelt, searching through them. "They're all positive," She muttered to herself disbelievingly. This wasn't meant to happen. They were meant to have their children together, at the same time. One would have a boy and the other a girl and they'd watch them grow up and then they'd get them to date and then they'd sit together crying with joy at the wedding. That was how she planned it. They were meant to be like _that_. "Are you keeping it?"

"I haven't even thought about what to do..." Blair was beside her in an instant, hugging her close to her body.

God, how were they going to do this?

* * *

_C_

He was the first guy to know. It was ironic really, a couple of years ago he would have been the last person to go to; in fact he would have probably been the one who had knocked the girl up. But not anymore. Now he was a stable boyfriend, he was reliable, he was...decent. Not that the other guy wasn't all of those qualities, but he was dumb enough to not use a condom, big mistake there buddy. He watched as she paced up and down the room, pulling at her long wavy hair that he so often loved to run his fingers through. She did look beautiful, especially when she was worried.

"It will all work out," He reassured the small brunette whom he got to call girlfriend. He'd never admit it, but it felt nice having someone to call girlfriend. Especially if it was Blair Waldorf.

* * *

_D_

"She rubbed her hands together, her fingers intertwining. What was she meant to say? How do you even begin to talk about it? She noticed the sofa was cold, really cold. She pulled at her dress, trying to cover her bare legs. The door opened, her immediate reaction was to stand up.

"Hey...what are you doing here?" He raised his eyebrows and blinked a bit. She loved it when he did that, when he was processing things or confused.

"You're Dad let me in on his way out,"

"Oh, right," He smiled and walked over to her, attempting to give her a kiss, but she pulled away. He did the face again. The adorable confused face. She had to look away. "Is everything alright?"

"I don't..."

"You can tell me,"

"I don't think you want to know,"

"Tell me," He urged, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and rubbing his thumb against her cheek. He could tell she had been crying. Her eyes were still puffy and he could feel the moisture where tears had run down.

"I think I'm...I know..." She looked down at the floor. "I'm pregnant," He stood still, for the first time he was stuck for words. He was silent. No rambling. Nothing.

"Do you...erm...are you hungry?"

"You're thinking about food right now?"

"It was the first thing I was going to ask you before you...I didn't know what else to say so..." He stopped. "Are you...do you want to keep it?"

"I don't know." She looked up at him, letting her eyes meet his. She looked so scared, he hated it. He hated it. It wasn't meant to be like this. He was meant to propose to her in Central Park and they were meant to plan it and have their own house, with a nursery and toys and they were meant to have the biggest smiles on their faces. They weren't meant to be scared. "Do you?"

"I...erm..." He pinched his temples, another habit, before sitting on the sofa. He leant forward, hands held together, his elbows on his knees and his chin resting on his thumbs. "I..."

"I...think I want to keep it...you don't have to..."

"I...if you want to have it, I'm not going to leave you..." He grabbed hold of her hand and looked her straight in the eyes. "I love you,"

"But you've got college and...and our parents,"

"It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks, just what you want,"

"What do you want?"

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you," He's sure of that now. He knows that's how it's meant to be. Whatever else happens he is meant to spend forever by her side. "If that means I have to make sacrifices...with college...and...stuff...I will do,"

"I don't think I can have an abortion..."

"And I don't think I could be a dad then just give it away to someone else, so adoption's..."

"A no?"

"Defiantly,"

"I can't do this,"

"_We _will be ok," He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her body into his, and placed a soft kiss on her hair.

* * *

"Noah!" The young blonde had a lot more experience than her looks and age gave her credit for. Her son was 10 now and just as talkative as his father, also, like his father, he had no problem with spending long periods of time alone in his room, reading or drawing. That was where he was now, where he had been for the past hour. "We're already late," 5 minutes later a small blonde boy trudged down the stairs, his long hair hung over his eyes.

"Oh, I brushed my hair this morning, I forgot today was national no comb day, sorry," He teased as he came into the hall, pulling up his tie.

"You're not funny Dad,"

"You know I am," He laughed, handing his son a jacket. "It's a bit cold out,"

"I don't need it, we're going in the car," Noah hated jackets and coats. Her mother had told her it was a phase (something all children do apparently), Dan's father had said his son had been just the same, but with pants; something that was still brought up as much as possible to humiliate the young dad.

"Put it on," The boy's mother ordered, giving him a stern look before pulling on her own coat. Her husband wrapped a scarf around his neck and then stopped to do the same for his son.

"I can do it by myself,"

"Sorry, I forget that you're a big boy now," He used his playful, teasing tone again.

"Mom, tell him to stop!" He flashed his big blue eyes at his mother, pleading with her as his Dad picked up the baby carrier that sat on the floor by the door. He gently pulled away some of the blankets, checking she was still safely sleeping.

"Stop it both of you," She held back the urge to laugh at the two of them, before ushering them out the door and locking it behind them. She held the younger male's hand as she waited for her husband to fetch the car.

"I hate car journeys," The boy moaned.

"Me too," She agreed. "But you like seeing everyone else, don't you?"

"Yeah,"

"Well, you've just got to sit through a bit of a drive if you want to see them,"

"Couldn't we fly?" She laughed, but stopped when she saw his face. He was being deadly serious and he wore the most adorable look of anger in response to his mother's reaction.

"You can't fly a one hour car journey, sweetie," She told him, affectionately tussling his hair, causing him to swat her away, patting down strands of wayward gold.

"All aboard," He'd pulled the car up and waited for the rest of his small family to get in to the black Mercedes.

"You're lucky, you get to sleep," He looked towards the seat in which his little sister was laid, tiny breathing noises made their way out of the bundle.

"You can too," She suggested as her husband pulled out.

"No I can't. It's too noisy,"

"Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed," She teased, looking at her husband, who smiled quickly, before turning his gaze back on the road. She watched her son fold his arms and stare out the window, indicating he was in a strop. She knew it would best to not speak to him when he was like this. Instead she turned the radio on, although keeping it at a low volume, careful not to wake her sleeping daughter, and sung along quietly, occasionally looking over to her husband and laughing as he attempted to tap his finger to the beat on the steering wheel. He certainly hadn't inherited his father's musical ability.

"Are you laughing at me, Mrs Humphrey?"

"I might be," She giggled, her voice was hoarse, she was beginning to lose it after all the sleepless nights with the new baby and running around after her elder child.

"How rude," She laughed at him again before turning to check on the kids. They were both asleep now; she stared at them for a while, soaking in the adorable looks on their faces. "We've done well," It was like he was reading her mind.

"Yeah," She agreed, placing her hand in between the two seats, allowing him to place his over it. "He looks really tired,"

"Because he was up until at least 1,"

"1 am?" Her eyes widened.

"I caught him with his torch under the covers,"

"Did you stop him this time?"

"No..."

"Dan, come on, he's 10, you have to discipline him,"

"He was reading William Faulkner..." He'd never been able to stop his son reading a book, especially if it was one of his favourite authors, even if it was at ridiculous hours in the morning.

"He's reading William Faulkner at 10?"

"What can I say? He's clever like his daddy,"

"Pretty dumb then,"

"Thank you," He laughed.

"He never brings friends home," It had been on her mind for a while, eating away at her. What if her son was friendless?

"I wouldn't worry about that," He reassured her, squeezing her hand. "I wouldn't bring friends home if I had us as parents, we're pretty embarrassing,"

"He's not meant to find us embarrassing until he's a teenager,"

"I hate to break it to you, but he's 10 and everything about him is more mature than a usual child..."

"I guess you're right,"

"You _know_ I'm right," He grinned and then focused on the road again, turning into a drive and parking up next to a large Range Rover. He left his wife the more difficult task of getting the baby out of the car without waking her, whilst he went around to his son's side, gently shaking his shoulders to wake him. He rubbed his eyes and yawned.

"Wasn't too noisy after all, huh?" This earned a glare from his son; the phrase if looks could kill came to mind. "Come on then grouchy, they're waiting for us," He let his son clamber out, before closing the door and locking the car.

"Dad?" They were through the front door, their shoes making loud noises on the newly polished oak flooring.

"Yeah?" He hung their coats up then made his way to the living room, but was held back at the door, his son tugging on his jumper. "What's up?"

"I don't want to sleep in the closet," He looked down at him, brow furrowed, trying to work out what he meant.

"You're going have to explain kid, I don't get you,"

"Please don't make me sleep in the closet,"

"Why would we do that?"

"Because you're going to give Grace my room,"

"Wait, who said we were giving Grace your room?"

"Scott said that when she can talk you'll forget about me and that you'll just put me in a closet all day and make me sleep in a crib and then when you hate me you'll send me away,"

"Of course we won't," He crouched down so they were at the same eye level. "Noah Rufus Humphrey, you will never have to live anywhere but in our house in your room, unless you want to change, ok?"

"Scott said that you'd say that, but then you'd change your mind and you'll..."

"Scott doesn't know what he's talking about," Dan assured him. "You're keeping your room... it would be impossible to redecorate with all the photos and posters you have on the walls," His son smiled slightly. "Is this why you've been in a mood the past few days?" He shrugged. "I know we've been really busy with Grace, but if you ever want to...check out a new book together, like we used to, tell me, ok?"

"I'm a bit too old for bedtime stories,"

"Don't be silly, you're never too old for bedtime stories," He stood up. "We good?" Noah nodded. "Good, because I can hear Granddad and I think he's about to start playing," He watched as his son's eyes lit up and laughed as he ran into the room. He looked into the kitchen, finding most of the adults sat around having drinks, although he noticed his wife was drinking orange juice...it had become a habit apparently. His mother-in-law cooed over her granddaughter, tickling her and playing peek-a-boo. He turned back around and joined his dad in the living room.

They were all there; his son, the 7 year old Bass girl and her younger brother, sat alongside them were his nephews-the Archibald twins. They sat around on the sofas and chairs; all dressed in their best clothes, singing along with the man who sat playing guitar. Dan suddenly felt himself well up with pride, for his father, who seemed to finally be completely happy and as he watched his son play gently with his younger friends, making sure he didn't hurt them, he felt proud of him too.

And that was when he realised it.

Maybe it wasn't how they had thought or planned or wanted.

But it was certainly how it was meant to be.


End file.
